Greg was tall and thin, his body shaped almost like a praying mantis. His hair was greasy and unkempt, and a pair of round glasses constantly slid down his nose. Because of his strange hobby of collecting insects, most students at school treated him like a freak.
Greg avoided eye contact with everyone.
His timid personality and odd behavior made people uncomfortable, and even the bullies at school rarely bothered him. Harassing someone who spent all day surrounded by dirty bugs simply wasn't worth the trouble.
The night had already grown dark by the time Greg returned home.
He wore a wrinkled black evening suit that looked far too formal for someone like him. His shoulders drooped gloomily as he stepped through the door.
He had almost walked all the way to school earlier.
But when he reached the edge of campus, he turned around and walked back.
He still didn't have the courage to attend the dance.
A few days earlier, he had accidentally left one of the containers holding his precious insects open. During the night, several of them had crawled out and bitten him while he slept.
Now his face was covered with red swollen marks.
He couldn't possibly appear like that in front of the girl he admired.
Especially not at the school dance.
The living room lights were bright.
The moment Greg stepped inside—
Snap!
A stack of photographs and several videotape boxes slammed onto the sofa.
"Is this why you lock yourself in your room all day, Greg?"
Greg's mother stood in front of him, her face pale with anger.
The photos were scattered across the couch.
Every single one showed Lana.
Some were taken during the day at school. Others were snapped secretly at night. A few even showed her walking home alone.
Every angle looked disturbingly deliberate.
The tapes contained the same type of footage.
"You went through my room without permission!" Greg shouted angrily.
He rushed forward and began gathering the photos and tapes in a panic, clutching them like priceless treasures.
"How could you do something like this?" his mother cried. "I'm in the same social club as Lana's aunt, Nell! How am I supposed to face her knowing my son secretly photographs her niece all day?"
Her voice trembled with humiliation.
Tears nearly spilled from her eyes.
"I can't let this continue," she said firmly.
She realized now that she had made a terrible mistake.
For years she had respected Greg's privacy too much. She rarely interfered in his daily life or paid attention to his strange habits.
That negligence had allowed Greg to sink deeper and deeper into isolation.
He spent all day alone in his room with jars of insects. He secretly filmed a girl from school. He withdrew further and further from normal social interaction.
"I'm calling Clermont Military Academy tomorrow morning," she announced.
If things continued like this, she couldn't even imagine what Greg might become.
"No!"
Greg's voice rose in panic.
"What about my bugs if I leave?"
"You should have abandoned those disgusting habits long ago," his mother snapped. "Tomorrow I'm throwing away every bug in that room."
Her anger flared when she saw him shouting at her over insects.
Bang!
Greg stormed back into his room and slammed the door shut.
Inside the dim space, dozens of glass containers lined the shelves.
Butterflies.
Beetles.
Spiders.
All preserved carefully inside jars and bottles.
Greg's breathing slowly calmed as he stared at them.
His expression softened.
His voice became strangely gentle.
"You're all so beautiful," he whispered quietly.
"No one will hurt you."
"I'll take you somewhere safe."
Inside many of the jars, the soil glowed faintly with a pale green light.
The glow was beautiful.
Greg had discovered a strange meteorite in the woods several nights ago. Curious, he had crushed the stone into powder and mixed it into the soil inside every container.
At night, the powder produced a soft fluorescent glow.
It made the insects look even more enchanting.
Greg had even given one glowing butterfly to the girl he liked.
"I wonder what Lana's face looked like when she received it," he murmured to himself.
"It's a shame I couldn't take a photo."
After finishing his quiet reflection, Greg began packing.
His obsession with insects returned immediately.
He carefully gathered every jar and bottle in the room and carried them outside. One by one, he loaded them into his car.
He planned to take them to an abandoned treehouse he had used as a child.
The place was deep in the woods.
No one ever went there anymore.
He could store the insects safely there.
And if necessary, he could hide there himself.
That way no one could send him to military school.
Click.
"Greg! Where are you going?"
The old car engine roared to life.
Greg ignored his mother's voice as she ran outside after him.
With a cold sneer, he stepped on the gas and sped away.
He drove straight toward the forest road leading to the treehouse from his childhood.
But he hadn't gone far.
Just outside town, the car hit a deep mud puddle on the road.
Crash!
The sudden jolt shook the entire vehicle.
Several of the glass containers tipped over.
They fell onto the floor of the car and shattered instantly.
Glass exploded across the interior.
Freed insects burst into the air.
Their wings glowed faintly green from the meteorite powder clinging to their bodies.
They filled the cramped car like a living storm.
"No!"
Greg screamed.
"Don't bite me!"
The insects swarmed him.
Sharp stinging pain erupted across his skin as if dozens of needles pierced his body at once.
Greg flailed wildly.
The steering wheel jerked out of control.
The car veered violently off the road and crashed into the grass.
Inside the vehicle, the glowing insects attacked him frantically.
Green lights flickered across the darkness.
"Ahhh!"
Greg's scream echoed across the empty countryside.
For a long time, no one answered.
Eventually the screaming faded.
His body slumped forward.
Greg lost consciousness.
…
Back at the school gymnasium, the dance had completely collapsed into chaos.
Students sat wrapped in blankets after experiencing the terrifying event.
Everyone was soaked from the fire sprinklers and looked like drowned rats.
The music had stopped.
The dance was over.
Someone had already called the police.
Smallville officers arrived quickly to investigate the situation.
When word spread that the students had nearly been attacked, parents rushed to the school to pick up their children.
The quiet night shattered with noise.
Ambulances, police cruisers, and family cars crowded the entrance of the school.
"Victor! Clark!"
Jonathan and Martha Kent arrived soon after hearing the news.
They searched anxiously through the crowd.
But they couldn't find their sons.
"Chloe, have you seen them?" Martha asked.
She recognized the girl immediately.
During Chloe's earlier visit to the farm, the bright and curious student had left a deep impression.
"I'm not sure, Aunt Martha," Chloe replied.
She sat on the steps of the school wrapped in a blanket while her father stood beside her.
"They should be okay."
"Dad! Mom! We're over here!"
Clark's voice suddenly called out.
"Clark, where did you go?" Chloe asked immediately.
She had been wondering about that for a long time.
"Well… Victor and I didn't have dates," Clark said awkwardly.
"We got bored halfway through the dance and stepped outside for some fresh air."
Clark scratched the back of his head nervously.
Victor stood beside him calmly.
Chloe and Pete's parents were nearby, which made Clark even more uncomfortable.
He had never been good at lying.
Fortunately, no one paid too much attention.
Everyone had been frightened tonight.
"Are you boys okay?" Jonathan asked.
He looked over the clothes Victor was wearing before patting his shoulder.
"I'm fine, Dad," Victor said with a small smile.
"I'm okay too," Clark added quickly.
Jonathan quietly exchanged a glance with Martha.
His eyes signaled her not to ask too many questions.
Both parents already suspected what had happened.
The attacker had suddenly disappeared.
The most likely explanation involved their eldest son.
Besides, both boys had somehow changed into clothes that should have been neatly folded back home in the closet.
Clearly something unusual had occurred.
"Are you Clark Kent and Victor Kent?"
Two police officers approached.
"Yes, sir," Clark replied.
"Where were you when the incident happened?"
Clark hesitated.
"Well… we…"
The officers were simply taking routine notes.
From the witness statements gathered earlier, the attacker had a thin body frame completely different from the Kent brothers.
Besides, it still wasn't clear whether the incident had been a real attack or some kind of elaborate prank.
There was no need to turn it into a major investigation yet.
Considering the attacker had terrified everyone and then vanished suddenly, the police suspected the latter.
"What a shame," one parent said to Jonathan while watching the chaos around the school. "Tonight was supposed to be a great night for the kids."
"The important thing is that the kids are safe," Jonathan replied.
After chatting briefly, the parents began taking their children home.
…
Later that night at the Kent house, Jonathan and Martha sat on the living room sofa.
Clark and Victor stood in front of them.
"So," Jonathan said slowly, "that wasn't a prank after all?"
"Someone who can shoot electricity from his hands?" Martha added quietly.
The couple exchanged stunned glances.
....
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